2021-03-24 - The Scrapbook

It's a journey through history, only backwards. This building dates back to the 1920s and every new owner has added their own layer of wall paper since then. This means that there is a hell of a lot of wall paper to tear back off when you've made up your mind to do a proper renovation, rather than just keep on patching the existing. It means a lot of scraping and steaming and -- for some reason gathering a bit of each. Somebody suggested to Ravn that he make a scrapbook of style history just for the fun of it. He's taken them up on it -- because why not? It's all part of the process, and every little project adds severity to the narrative.

It's all about the narrative. Everything is about the narrative.

He's currently in the back room, tearing off wall paper with a sharp knife. For once, stripped down to a tank top and leaving his arms bare since this is physical work and the required steam makes the room hot. A transistor bleats some European pop rock channel and there's coffee on the folding table. Life isn't that bad.

Ignacio strolls in with his signature limp like some kind-hearted cowboy and says in the arguably flattened New York Spanish accent of him "Brother, you keep peeling there'll be nothing but a hole to Narnia left. Who said we should scrapbook that? Kinda a neat idea." He looks tired but all in all in a good mood. He goes up to the Dane and drops down the thing he's carrying. "I picked this up at Costco. I figured old building, not necessarily the best insulated. You. So I got us an air purifier for the classroom area and to help keep the dust down."

"You may just have saved my life," the asthmatic notes with a small grin and tears off a lengthy strip of bright yellow with a brilliant shit brown stripe. "This place is -- let's just say it's a good thing I don't intend to do everything myself because we'd be here for a very long time. People are being very helpful. And as you can see, I've made it to 1973. This will be an interesting ride."

He straightens up a little and stretches; this is back breaking work. "I'm heading into Seattle to sign some of the last paperwork for the transfer later in the week. Is there anything you need me to think about or ask about while I'm speaking legalese?"

Joe's showed up ready to work, too. The big bike he rides is out front, but he's brought grubby jeans and a t-shirt, ambling in with his usual loose-jointed gait. He's got a bag from a hardware store over his arm, and pauses to look around, curiously. "Hey, y'all," he says. "What exactly are we up to with this place?"

"Yes, Lunch." the Spaniard grins giving Ravn a snappoint as he makes to pull the thing out of the box and plugs it in nearby but not in the way. "I saw it and thought, ya know, I'd really like people not dying. Oh., speaking of murder victims," he's so cheerful about this, "I went and scrubbed the workspace of any big impressions last night. I found something at the house that reminded me to do that. I doooon't think it's fixing the weird salt smell though." Joe coming in gets a wry grin, "What's up, Savannah? Weeee are getting ready to finish final cleaning and set this up as having a lunch counter kitchenette there, and over there bench tables so people can work on things. Social space here. Teaching space there. Working on doing tutoring and job education skills. Addiction outreach. And we are working with the local BNI group to network and help some folks down on their luck get employed again."

"Have had a couple of local shops already donate -- mostly time. Vydal sent care packages though he'll probably complain that I ruin his reputation as the town grump if I tell you. Leon Gyre came in and got started on changing the locks -- which is good because we have one key for the bathroom and one for the kitchen, and uh, none for the front door." Ravn offers a lopsided smile and then raises a hand with a sharp knife at Joe. "Howdy, neighbour. I guess this fog is good for one thing -- it keeps me from getting to work readying the Vagabond for the summer so I might as well work here."

"Yeah. This fog...." Joe hesitates. "Makes me wanna find other human company, if that makes sense." He looks around again, more as if trying to get his bearings. "What c'n I do to help?" A hand lifted in greeting. "Hey there, Ignacio," he says, amiably. "You got the Vagabond back in the water? I ain't lookin' forward to careening Surprise and gettin' all the barnacles off her, lemme tell you." Then he cocks an eye at Ignacio and says, "Well, I suppose I'll have to help with all that. Gotta have someone who deals with veterans' issues, plenty of us around town and in the area."

Ignacio snickers shaking his head. "Hey I don't care if people begrudgingly do charity so long as they're helping. I mean I pretty much have the same gripes about getting up and making breakfast for the menagerie." Though it's the offer from Joe to help vets that really warms up his lopsided smile that hits his eyes with a nod, "I think they could genuinely appreciate that. I never wanted to go but group's helped me start... fixing my shit It's nice not having to do it alone and meeting people that get shit. Whatever you need for that holler up, man." A cause close to his soul he's shared in the paper and in 6 books. Getting past stuff is a smooth ride for no one.

"Not yet." Ravn shakes his head. "I need to work her over first, repaint the hull where it got damaged in that gremlin accident last fall, and so on. Which is what I'd be doing right now except I can bloody well not see the marina, nevermind a boat in it, in this fog. And this place needs somebody to be here to get the ball rolling when people walk in, so the Vagabond might get seaborne a little late this season."

He grins slightly and tosses the sharp knife for de-wall papering to Joe. "We can use you. I've some experience tutoring veterans from Afghanistan -- but I don't speak the language the way someone does who was actually there. You and some of those boys have things in common that I am not qualified to pretend that I understand. Which reminds me, Ignacio -- there's a couple of gents from under the boardwalk seeking shelter from the fog upstairs. They claim they saw eyes watching them from the water and heard voices calling their names. I guess we just opened up a little early to some."

The Dane pauses a moment and then admits, a little more quietly, "The fog is driving me crazy too. Can't stand sitting at home alone, just waiting for another dream to take me. I usually enjoy my quiet time alone but..."

Ignacio looking back to Ravn asks, "You know you might be able to ask your dude, Aidan to help you remove all that organic matter from teh boat. He MIGHT be able to help and you cna skip past the work part and get onto having a smoke, a beer, and bemoaning how boats are a pain in the ass while enjoying the boat."

"You know, hadn't occurred to me that someone could do that. I mean, gettin' live things off her hull," Joe muses. An aside, as he looks between them, goes to start setting out what he's brought. Drinks and snacks....and also things for cleaning. "Yeah, I figure it'd help. I got shot up over there, I was in for a long time, I know how it works. There's a lot of resources for vets these days, but when you're really down on your luck, hard to know where to begin..."

The mention of the things in the fog makes him pause again. "We gonna be a shelter, too?" he wonders. "I mean, day shelter or.....I realize I don't know much of what's available here for the truly homeless."

"Ah, but my friend, scraping the barnacles is not just about clearing barnacles off the hull." Ravn smiles at the New Yorker. "It's also a couple of sixpacks, your buddies, stripping down to shorts and getting sweaty, and talking about all the stuff you could never talk about while properly dressed and business-like. Like barbecue and chicks. Or barbecued chickens. It's a ritual."

He shakes his head at Joe. "We don't have the space to be a proper shelter, nor the kind of manpower or resources we need. But -- you know, a couple of guys complaining about being singled out by carnivorous mermaids in the fog. Told them they could -- you know, stay for a few days, help clear out the trash from upstairs, and we'd kind of not tell anyone they camp in a corner for a bit. Got to have each other's backs."

The small Spaniard holds his hands up with a laugh, "I learned a lot working with people good with organics. You don't work for August Roen for two years and not learn how to...botanize things." Looking to Ravn he frowns and says "You know I wish I had the money to buy and renno the Murder Hotel to be less... murderous. But cool. I'll have to bring in lunch and stuff. Though we COULD set up overnight cots and stuff. They do that with auditoriums and stuff." Air filter engaged! It whirrs almost...silently. Ignacio frowns slightly and looks up admitting, "Alright, no great woosh but I'm impressed it runs quiet. Won't interfere with people trying to listen or be heard. Nabbad nabbad."

A rustle of plastic bag, and Joe comes out with a package of dust masks. "Got these," he offers, setting them down. "Yeah, that purifier's a good idea," he adds. "And good to know about the guys upstairs. I got a cot, if we need one, that I could lend. And a woobie for a blanket." A....what now?

"Carnivorous mermaids, huh?" Joe scratches his chin with a fingertip. He's been cultivating his scruff again, it seems. "If it weren't Gray Harbor, I'd laugh. Makin' me glad I just checked the strength of Surprise's hatch locks, though."

"Wouldn't work," Ravn says quietly. "Get all of Gray Harbor's homeless and vulnerable people together in one shelter, you might as well put up a sign outside that says Lunch Buffet, Veil Monsters Dine Free. If we could solve this town's problem with money -- well, I guess we'd be doing it. For a town this small, Gray Harbor has a fair number of wealthy people, we could raise the funds. Place would probably burn down in a mystical fire accident involving Nyarlathotep and three black roosters three nights later, though."

He pours himself a cup of strong black coffee from the pot and indicates the plastic cups with a nod; anyone else, help yourselves. "I think we might want to be careful about actually making things too homey. I feel like such an ass for saying it, but, we can't accomodate people on a more permanent basis. But one thing we could perhaps look into in the long term is some kind of response to weather like this -- I don't know, opening the high school baseball court, something. People will be happy to sleep on a floor in weather like this, if it means they're not out there in it alone."

Ignacio looks to Ravn and looks like he's got some reservations here. "Wait are there mermaids? Carnivore is...redundant, but ya know a healthy reminder. Good call." he actually looks serious about this. Finalyl he comes clean, "Dunno what happened but the other day I felt.. It like...the veil or whatever get shook like a blanket in a fabric softener commercial. Given the fog? Fishpeople are not off the table here." Looking to Joseph he considers, points, and tells Ravn, "we protect the sailor at all costs. Agreed?"

The mention of that shiver in the Veil makes Joe all but freeze in the midst of popping open a can of soda. "I know what that was," he says, and there's a certain leaden calm in his voice. "So....turns out that those two local families, the Addingtons and the Baxters, have this weird connection to the Veil. Grant asked Baba Yaga to fix the brokenness of those Baxters that'd been sacrificed - he'd earned a wish from her in an earlier encounter. She granted the wish, and everything went weird for a second."

"I don't know if there are actually mermaids," Ravn replies. "But I've had some pretty bizarre experiences of my own in this fog already, and I have been on the bottom of the ocean here twice -- once as a fish and once as a near-naked fantasy game character. If people tell me they see glowing eyes in the fog and hear sirens calling their voices, I believe them. Carnivorous mermaids are mundane compared to some of the crap this town throws at you."

He pauses and looks at Joe. "I've done a lot of research about that connection. I may have to ask Grant about what happened exactly. Baba Yaga does nothing for free -- and nothing she does is ever harmless. She's the walking embodiment of a two-edged sword." The folklorist frowns and looks -- genuinely worried. "There's a storm coming. It's going to be big. The very fact that she's here and staying..."

"The Crone? Yeha I met her." He pauses with a frown nodding, "Gave me some good business advice actually, buuuut never trust an eager grandma. THey want something." He pauses and admits, "USUSALLY for me to marry their granddaughter, oh but she's my age, she's so nice, very smart," he mutters off into Spanish, "You'd have beautiful children, how handsome you are and cooks. Her name's like a song you must meet her grant a slowly dying woman that." His expression flattens with amusement. "yeah, I can see where this might be, hrmmmm, concerning? So a Baxter or an Addington broke more things to fix broken things... I'm not saying anything but I might have some reservations about this... Still so long as we don't get super ghost Margaret Addington out of it or i have to deal with my friends possessed again?" eeeeh. He looks to Joseph and asks, "How's Javier doing with the whole chief thing? I ain't talked to him in a minute."

"Exactly," Joe says, quietly. "She's here, she's takin' an interest....least she's givin' out some advice as she goes, rather than showin' up and sweepin' it all clean." He runs tattooed fingers through his hair, leaves the curls in even more disarray. He's a much scruffier creature than he was when he arrived a year ago. "What've you found?" he asks Ravn.

Then he smiles fondly at Ignacio. Apparently even mention of Javier is enough for that. "He's doin' all right. He grumbles, but he handles it."

What've you found? probably takes the annual Gray Harbor award for ask one question, get a lecture.

"The very short version? At some point in the 19th century, some Addington decided that he should be the boss around here instead of the Baxter who was. He struck some kind of Devil's bargain with something on the Other Side -- and the weirdness that is Gray Harbor is the result. The Veil was probably always thin here, but somehow, the Baxters have become walking batteries for it. It's not entirely clear how that works -- but the Addingtons and the Baxters have been fighting for control of the land and the power ever since. Somehow, the Addingtons benefit from the Baxters even after the latter die -- enslaving their souls or destroying them but keeping the mana battery effect, I've heard both stories. The Baxters have tried various defences -- moving away, changing their name, fighting back. The Addingtons fight among themselves as well because obviously, not all of the younger generations are on board with the idea of being Cthulhu's agents on Earth."

Ravn pauses to breathe. "Baba Yaga probably has nothing to do with all of that. Or maybe she has everything to do with it -- we won't know until it doesn't matter. She's a portent of change -- a trickster demigod from Slavic folklore whose function in a story is to test the protagonist's motives. She appears early in the narrative and forces the protagonist to make choices that reveal their character and heart. She doesn't act out of malice. To put it in the vernacular, she stirs shit and sees where it lands. And if you're a flower struggling to grow, then a shower of shit is a good thing."

He looks back at Joe. "The one thing we can be sure of is that she portends change. The manure's about to start flying. Here's to hoping we can channel flowers."

Ignacio turns and leans getting comfortable. He knows what a 'short answer' looks like. The answer though is far more sinister than birds bakes into a pie. There's a frown as he tries to pick through the details. "That sounds... difficult for people to cope with. "Soooo you think maybe this is a King Arthur/Camelot situation? The struggle between the families somehow creating a reflection in the reality pond?"

He looks back to Joseph's answer gets an eyebrow arched, "Fucking balsy move. Sort of like hitting one end of the scale with a hammer to balance it buuuut... I think... the old woman is an opportunist , and is thriving a bit off the strife in change. When things metamorph energy is released. Emotional or otherwise...that's a lot of fuel packed into some feelings stirred up."

Most of what the town's seen of him has been the cheerful sailor, the perpetual barfly in company with the Acting Chief and his musician. But that's only the latest in the long line of incarnations for him....and it's an older version of Joe that's looking out of that long face, with its disheveled curls and cultivated scruff. The cool-eyed, steady-handed pilot and engineer.

"So, the Addingtons have an investment in feeding the Baxters into the fire," Joe says, slowly. "Even if not all of 'em are okay with it. But what's the end game....and are we in it? What does this thing want those souls for....and now that Grant Baxter's upended all this, with the Baba's help, what now? Without those souls, where does it go?
He pushes fingers through his hair, sighs. "Man, you ain't kiddin'. It's been weird enough, this past while, but the shit really is about to hit the fan."

Ravn may not be hundred percent comfortable with the subject either; at least he dips into a jacket pocket for a cigarette. "Well, Margaret Addington certainly does have that interest. To the best of my understanding, something depends on it. I have heard that it's the Addington fortune -- and I have heard that it's the shine itself. Both or neither may be true, or only half truths. The Baxters are somehow the key to all of this -- their souls somehow funnel juice over here from the Veil, or they are what keeps the Veil thin, something along those lines. Controlling them in the afterlife might be the equivalent of occult mana batteries for all we know. The only person who does probably know is Margaret Addington, and I don't get the impression she's willing to talk."

He leaves the packet on the table so that others -- who totally stopped smoking -- might nab one. "I'm not sure what to say about Bax. This is the first I've heard of it. But knowing the kid -- he'd never wish for anything malicious. Which actually is probably the one thing that keeps him fairly safe -- Baba Yaga is on the side of a kind hearted protagonist. She helps the fisherman's son win the czar's daughter, and so on. If he is pure and deserving, and has wits."

Ignacio listens and folds his arms a frown growing. "What clauses were worked into this deal I wonder. I don't know much about the Baxters other than I knew... know one and Alexander has made his wish to not be kibble known and frankly? Reasonable request. The Addingtons are like the head of the town though starting with the mayor who seems pretty cool and the crazy old lady who...does not. She's like a BBC villain."

The sailor looks more and more dubious. "We can expect more mundane trouble, then, too. If Grant's just done something to imperil what the Addingtons have..." A longing glance for Ravn's cigarette, but he doesn't ask for one. Not even a hint. "But you're right, he's the kind of hero who wins through, in her stories." A flicker of something in his face. "I wonder how much all of this is responsible for the flow of the shine here. Can we turn off the tap? Do we want to? I gotta admit, I'm kinna torn at the idea of doin' somethin' that might take magic from the world...."

"Most of the Addingtons I've spoken with -- and that means a lot more Hyacinth than the rest of them -- are not bad people. If they know about this at all most of them are trying very hard to forget it and just get on with their lives. The other side seems to have some kind of hold on them that I don't think anyone but Margaret really understands." Ravn toys with the cigarette in one gloved hand. "I don't mean to diminish how important this is, but I don't think Baba Yaga really has a lot to do with it. She's from another part of the Veil -- less make people suffer, more poke anthill with stick and see what happens."

Then he looks over at Joe and says, "I don't personally think that the shine disappears even if we somehow find a way to undo everything here, or power down the Baxters, or whatever it takes. I had it all my life, on the other side of the planet -- Gray Harbor is not the only place in the world where the Veil is in tatters. But I do think that here, at least, it might grow a lot weaker as the doors to the Veil close. And I think that the ones Alexander Clayton and Vyv Vydal call dolorphages, the pain eaters, will fight nail and teeth to make sure that that does not happen. Whether that's what Baba Yaga is portending -- I'm not convinced. She's not their style, it doesn't sit right with me. It's ... genre mixing. I do realise how ridiculous that sounds."

He hitches a shoulder lightly. "I would -- prefer to not close the Veil here. This place, this centre -- it's not about shutting down the Veil. Just the dolorphages. The ones who actively feed on pain and suffering are the ones we need to worry about."

Ignacio listens and looks to Joseph with a small shrug on the closing off magic front, "Addiction is addiction. It feels better but is it doing more harm than good? Things we should be asking ourselves. But what if they're the dealers? You want your client base to use. Give a reason for them to need it. I don't know how it's just a concern."

There's a shallow echo of a smile as he admits, "I'm not going to profess knowing more than Alexander on these things, or anyone else. Just...I'd be concerned about anyone doing anything against anyone. Families or not that's not only illegal but it's super rude. So the abuela we met in the park... that's her gig huh?" He's adding things up but offers a slow nod. "My grandmother would love this woman. Abuelita is always kinda starting something. Meddler that one."

"Baba Yaga portends change," Ravn agrees. "She's kind of the Loki of Slavic folklore. She's the old woman whom the protagonist meets early in the story, the one who tests whether he is kind and helpful, and intelligent -- and if he's worthy, she puts him on the path to the princess and half the kingdom, or whatever his deal is. But she also eats babies and wrecks lives she finds to be unworthy. She's not good or evil -- if anything, she's the kind of chaos that is necessary for change, but change is not guaranteed to be for the better. So -- yes, I take her presence very seriously. Even if our Baba Yaga is not the real thing -- which I honestly doubt because I don't bloody well believe in fairytales -- she is the Veil's attempt to communicate with us. Whatever she is chose that form for a reason, it wants to play that part. So we should take her at face value, not obsess about what she really is."